Perfectly Sensible
by Ranlie
Summary: Catherine invites a lonely Sara over for Christmas dinner
1. Default Chapter

Title: Perfectly Sensible  
  
Rating: PG-13  
  
Disclaimer: They don't belong to me, but I'm holding my breath.  
  
Summary: Catherine invites a lonely Sara over for Christmas dinner  
  
Notes: I'm a faithful G/S 'shipper, but I seem to write C/S better. If you don't like slash, you might want to avert your eyes. If you ido/i like slash, please feel free to review! This story is spoiler-free.  
  
***  
  
Catherine didn't mind taking Sara home. She enjoyed her company, and in a town where gridlock could attack at any time of day or night, it was good to have someone to talk to. Besides, they lived close to each other. If they tended to carpool more so than the others, it was for perfectly sensible reasons.  
  
Today, however, traffic was worse than usual, and Sara had agreed to go with Catherine to drop Lindsey off at school before going home herself. Sara smiled as the girl leaped into the backseat, and wondered how someone could be that perky in the morning without coffee.  
  
"Hi Mom! Hi, Sara!" Lindsey said, as Catherine pulled out of the driveway. "Why're you here?"  
  
"Traffic was bad, so Sara said that she didn't mind coming with me to drop you off at school," Catherine said. "We wouldn't want you being late, would we?" Lindsey made a face, which Catherine echoed.  
  
Sara smiled uncertainly: apparently this was an old argument. Something inside her wondered if she was out of place: an intruder in an exclusive mother-daughter moment.  
  
Lindsey didn't seem perturbed, though, as she turned to Sara. "So, are you gonna come, Sara?"  
  
Sara was confused. "To wha--" she began, only to be cut off by a threatening "Lindsey..." from Catherine.  
  
Lindsey ignored her mother, and continued to grin at Sara. "Mom said that she was gonna ask you to come to Christmas dinner with us, 'coz we're alone this year and so are y--"  
  
"Lindsey!" Catherine said, louder this time. Lindsey stopped mid-sentence, and slid back into her seat. "You said you wanted her to come," she pouted.  
  
An awkward silence descended on the car.  
  
When they'd pulled into the drop-off zone of the school, Lindsey hopped out of the car without a word to Catherine. When she thought her mother wasn't looking, she whispered, "You've still gotta come!" to Sara before fleeing the scene.  
  
They sat in the car, watching Lindsey run off.  
  
"Was she serious?" Sara asked, her tone impenetrable.  
  
Catherine shrugged uncomfortably. "I meant to ask you at work," she began, but a glance at Sara made her realize that that wasn't what she had been asking.  
  
There was another pause.  
  
Sara's lips suddenly curled into a gentle smile. "Dinner sounds nice," she said softly.  
  
After a beat, Catherine smiled back. "We'll be happy to have you." 


	2. It's Up To You

Title: Perfectly Sensible  
  
Rating: PG-13  
  
Disclaimer: They don't belong to me, but I'm holding my breath.  
  
Summary: Catherine invites a lonely Sara over for Christmas dinner  
  
Notes: I'm a faithful G/S 'shipper, but I seem to write C/S better. If you don't like slash, you might want to avert your eyes. If you ido/i like slash, please feel free to review! This story is spoiler-free.  
  
***  
  
With her eyes closed and a cigarette hanging lazily out of her mouth, it was easy to forget what she had gotten herself into. Sara let out a long, smoky breath, and opened her eyes to find the ashtray in the dark. If anyone found burn marks on the leather, the gig would be up.  
  
The attempt was fruitless, however, as it's difficult to hold a cigarette when one is gasping at the large shadow standing outside the passenger side of her parked car.  
  
The shadow moved, and with the questionable help of the Christmas lights that fringed the nearby houses, Sara recognised Catherine.  
  
Catherine knocked on the window, looking both confused and amused. More of the latter, Sara decided, cursing as she retrieved her cigarette from where it was burning a hole through the carpet. She flicked the unlock switch, allowing Catherine to climb into the warm car. The night was cold, and she was only wearing jeans and a pretty sleeveless sweater that Sara didn't remember seeing before.  
  
Catherine eyed her cigarette, and after a moment's hesitation, Sara slipped it back between her lips for another long drag. Let Catherine suffer. Serve her right, for scaring her.  
  
"'Nicorette' my ass," Catherine said mildly.  
  
Sara breathed out a cloud of smoke. "It's a vice. Is sneaking around suburban neighbourhoods at night yours?"  
  
"You're in front of my house."  
  
"Technically it's yours and Linds--"  
  
"You know what I meant."  
  
There was another moment's hesitation, and then, reluctantly, Sara took the cigarette and stubbed out what was left of it. There was lipstick on the filter. She wondered if she would need to reapply it.  
  
"I thought maybe you'd changed your mind," she said, quieter now.  
  
"I thought you had," Catherine replied. "You should come in. Lindsey wants to see you."  
  
Sara's lips momentarily parted as she felt an urge to press further in this line of questioning, but the answer was suddenly apparent. Catherine had come looking for her, after all. She tilted her head to look more closely at her passenger.  
  
Catherine gave something akin to a smile. "It's up to you," she said, and in the silence that followed, she took the opportunity to hop out of the car and head back to her brightly lit house.  
  
She had nearly reached the front door when she heard footsteps tapping up the driveway behind her. 


	3. Trickery

Title: Perfectly Sensible  
  
Rating: PG-13  
  
Disclaimer: They don't belong to me, but I'm holding my breath.  
  
Summary: Catherine invites a lonely Sara over for Christmas dinner  
  
Notes: I'm a faithful G/S 'shipper, but I seem to write C/S better. If you don't like slash, you might want to avert your eyes. If you ido/i like slash, please feel free to review! This story is spoiler-free.  
  
***  
  
Sara drank when she was nervous.  
  
It was a bad habit: one she had been meaning to break. The problem was, when she got nervous, the farthest thing from her mind was which habits to keep and which to throw away.  
  
So she drank.  
  
That said, she was still Sara Sidle, and so after three glasses of wine, she was pleasantly talkative, rather than completely sloshed.  
  
Lindsey had gone to bed hours ago, and that only when Sara had promised that she would be leaving after helping Catherine clean up the kitchen. She had meant to leave, actually. Her jacket was at that very moment slung over the armrest of Catherine's couch, upon which she had curled up. Catherine sat on the other end looking elegant, one leg crossed over the other, a glass of red wine held by the tips of her fingers.  
  
If Sara had been sober, she probably would have felt ungraceful and angular compared to Catherine. But she wasn't--sober, that was--so she was happy to sit and observe the graceful curves of Catherine's body.  
  
"I don't know why I took Christmas off," Sara admitted, he. "I didn't have anything planned. It just seemed to be the thing to do, to ask to get Christmas off."  
  
"I'm glad you did." Catherine said, as she swirled around the little bit of wine that remained in her glass.  
  
A few hours ago, Sara would have stopped and started at her, unsure of whether or not there was some subtext that she should have been paying attention to. Now, their obscure comments had become a game. Sara wasn't very good at it yet, nor was she even really certain if Catherine was  
  
playing the same game she was, but she was trying.   
  
So she replied, "I'm glad too."  
  
Catherine smiled, almost absently, as she studied her glass. "I hate mistletoe."  
  
Sara paused for a moment, first to wonder at the non sequitur, and then to think of a witty reply. In both cases she came up short. "Sorry, what?"  
  
"It's a trick," Catherine said, her brow furrowing in mild irritation. "Totally unfair. If I'm going to kiss someone, it's not going to be because of some stupid plant."  
  
Sara was still a little confused as to where this conversation was headed, but for a lack of anything better to say, she managed to offer a helpful, "I think they're made of plastic nowadays."  
  
"See?" Catherine shook her head in mock disgust. "You can't even get the real thing. That's why I didn't put any up."  
  
"Nobody really puts mistletoe up in their house anymore anyway," Sara shrugged. "I mean, unless you were having people over, why would you bother?"  
  
As quickly as it had appeared, Catherine's irritated fa?ade melted away into an amused expression. "I bought some."  
  
Sara, confused, looked more closely at Catherine, searching for a clue as to what the point of all this was. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she suspected that they weren't speaking under the guise of innuendo and subtext anymore.  
  
For her part, Catherine still looked amused, though she hadn't once looked up from her wineglass. "When you said you'd come, I went out and bought some. But then I thought about how unfair and awkward it would be, so I tossed it."  
  
Their conversation was veering into dark and dangerous territory, and Sara began to feel vulnerable and nervous for the first time in hours. She hesitated for a moment, and then mumbled something about not having had enough wine. She had already risen, intending to flee to the kitchen, when Catherine grabbed her wrist.  
  
"If you have more wine, you'll be drunk," Catherine said, her fingers gentle but firm around her wrist. "You can't be drunk. Not now."  
  
Sara knew that her jacket was on the couch only feet away, just as she knew that Catherine would release her the instant she tried to pull away. She could leave. Run to her car, escape to her apartment and never return. This wasn't a game any more, or if it was, Catherine had just asked to see her hand.  
  
"You...don't want this," Sara said, trying her best to look stern. She only ended up looking pained. "You can do better."  
  
"I know what I want," Catherine replied, her every word clear. "You can sit down or you can leave, but I'm not giving you an easy way out."  
  
Somewhere between the panic and the worry, a cynical part of Sara wondered if this was how Grissom felt when she had forced him to make a choice about their would-be relationship.  
  
She wasn't sure when she made her decision, but two minutes later, when she was still standing beside the couch with Catherine's hand on her wrist, Sara knew that she wasn't going to leave. Catherine didn't bother to move out of the way as Sara sunk down beside her, nor did she release Sara's hand.  
  
When Catherine smiled, her expression was a mix of smugness and sympathy. Her fingers slid up Sara's arm, past her shoulder, and into her hair. "Now do you see why I didn't want to use any tricks?"  
  
Sara blushed, but let out a soft laugh just the same. Before she tilted her head to receive Catherine's lips, she murmured, "Because it's more fun this way." 


End file.
